


Sneaky Red

by SerphenySlayer



Category: Sneaky Red (Manga)
Genre: Basically an analysis of their relationship, Bullying, Enemies to Lovers, I swear it ends cute, M/M, Masochism, S&M, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-04-23 04:46:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14324895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerphenySlayer/pseuds/SerphenySlayer
Summary: Misaki gets beaten up by this delinquent, but over time, he begins to discovery something about himself...





	1. The Black Eye

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I'm the first person to make a work of this fandom. Anyway, I'm stepping into land mine territory writing this, and criticism and praise are welcomed.

He honestly can’t remember who started it.

After his fourth run-in with the guy with the piercings under his lip, Misaki assumes it must be he himself that started it. With a word or action which might have been insolent, he really can’t remember. All he knows is that his encounter with the delinquent means more bruises every night he walks back from a long grueling day at work.

He wonders if there’s a specific reason for his violence. Every time he is met on the receiving end of those fists, he sees those eyes lit with delirium and surprise at his inactive attempts to fight back. During those days, the punches are hard, and it’s almost like he’s trying to get a reaction out of him. Trying to taunt him, bait him into fighting. Misaki wished they would stop, even more for the reason that now the punches are aimed for his face making it harder to cover, and his co-workers are growing worried.

“Geez, what happened to your face?” bursts an obnoxious Suzuki when he comes through the door at work wearing the usual mask. Even when treated, he can still feel the purplish bruise on his cheek which stings every time he forces a smile.

“Just had a bit of a scuffle,” he attempts to look nonchalantly like always.

“A bit?.. _.a bit?_ It looks like someone beat the hell out of you!”

Though he tells them not to worry, his co-workers are still not satisfied, and he’s forced to listen to their lectures of safety and avoiding trouble at all costs. He nods through their pointless ramblings, not bothering to correct their assumption that he’s hanging with the wrong crowd or dealing in something dangerous. He only remembers to nod meekly and answer at the right moments because really, what can they do? How are they going to react with the fact that this violence has done something to addle his brain?

He knew there was something wrong with him. A sensible person would call for help. A strong person would at least choose a different path. A smarter one would start heading home accompanied by friends. He was none of those things. He can’t understand why he’s unable muster up the courage to fight back or run away.

Maybe he’s tired of it all. And not just of resisting, but maybe living as well. Tired of living in a second-rate apartment, tired of going to his mediocre job, and tired of dealing with customers, where the only thing keeping him sane is the fact that it puts food on the table and pays his rent.

Now, he thinks with some foreboding sense, maybe he’s tired, too, of being invisible to people.

So when the guy with piercings comes again, he just…takes it. Takes it because it’s the only way he can be visible to those delirious eyes even if for a few minutes. Even if it costs him bruised cheeks.

 _"Masochist!"_ snickers his offender. And Misaki thinks the word uttered tastes more bitter than the blood on his mouth.

 

 

It’s the middle of July and the summer rains are just beginning; a stark contrast to the sunshine and hot weather of a typical summer season, and it is during those times that the bullying suddenly takes a turn for the worst.

Today had been especially brutal. He had actually tried to run away this time, but amid the confusion of fleeing, managed to make his oppressor furious by an accidental elbow to his face. Big mistake. The only thing he registered before closing his eyes on reflex was the flash of a blurred fist and a sharp pain in his socket. Clutching his face and feeling the tears of pain his eyes, the harsh snicker and sharp footsteps fade down the street, leaving him alone to his wounds. After a few minutes, he continued down the path towards his job, feeling the light sprinkles of rain on his face.

It is a few minutes before the rain starts picking up in droplets, so he opens his umbrella and continues on. But as he passes by an empty store window and turns his head, a sight renders him to an eventual stop. Approaching the store window to see against the darkened glass, his own messy reflection stares back at him; a purple bruise visible on his left cheek the night before and an angry welt on the other one, covered up for work by the face mask. His lower lip had a cut with dry blood.

But it was the black eye that stood out like a sore thumb. His heart was sinking like the drops of rain from the sky as he stared back at himself, stunned for words as one definite resolution came to mind: he could not go to work like this.

It was now raining hard by the time he was trudging his way back to his apartment, his spirits dampened as he realized that this type of injury was one that would require more than just a few days to heal. He would have to take a week of vacation from work. He had to. He could just eat cheap ramen in the meantime to save for expenses. All he needed to do, was get home away from this rain and sleep it off. He’d think of something, after all.

What he wasn’t thinking however, was finding familiar blond-dyed hair under the protection of an umbrella further away. There stood the bane of his torment, slanting leisurely against the railing of a fence, with that same familiar jacket and those twin piercings under his lip like a warning flash to everyone. The guy’s eyes met his own, surprise momentarily visible at seeing the other. But the next moment, that face formed an evil smirk and slowly leaned off the fence to stalk over.

 _Why was he still here?_ His heart was speeding uncontrollably again like the wheels of a car and his body felt like ice.  _He should have gone by now! Had he waited for me knowing I would come?_

But like always, Misaki felt his body pushing him forward, as if some invisible thread kept him from turning away or retreating. That had always been the case with him. No matter how much he was scared of those eyes, scared of those fists, it was like he had no control over his body. Like a magnet, his trajectory would always lead to those hard fists, that harsh tone, and those watchful eyes.   

"I ended up not going to my part-time job" he says.

 _"So? Not my problem, even though I’ve kept my guard down this whole time."_ Comes the guy’s remark. " _How sad, you tryin’ to act cocky now?"_

And there's that other strange thing too; sometimes like moments like these that would catch Misaki off guard, is the amount of times the guy has touched him aside from his physical violence. Such is the case as he feels the guy’s fingers spider their way up his neck, brushing against his Adam’s apple to linger against the lump and giving a small squeeze.

_"Already giving up with just this much!?"_

The unwarranted touch makes his skin flare as he feels the fingers press only if briefly upon the lump in his throat as if experimenting. As if reminding him of his powerlessness. Just one squeeze from those fingers and he’d choke. He feels himself shudder.

Then he is suddenly slapped (both  literally and figuratively) out of his reverie. Falling from the weight of those fists and the slippery ground with his umbrella forgotten, he experiences the torrent of rain on his face and the grip on his shirt forcing him to look up.

_"Say something, it’s not going to end with just a warning!"_

His tormentor sounds angry, yet he does nothing. With the rough grip still on his soaking shirt, he does nothing but lay there, shivering in cold fatigue. Lays there because he knows what’s coming next…that small part of him that always anticipates...

After a pregnant pause of waiting…waiting expectantly for that fist to rightfully fall on him as the rain drowns out all other noise, his eyes, expectant and submissive finally meets his.

And then, something within their locked gaze changes. The crescent smug in his mouth is replaced by a flat one. His eyes are widened, no longer smiling anymore, and somehow it seems to disturb him more than his usual sneering gaze. It is only a few seconds in which his eyes are locked unto his. Understanding seems to flash in his eyes as he lets go of Misaki's wet shirt, now clutching the nape of his own neck in a gesture that seems to spell out nervous confusion.

_"Don’t tell me you…what a surprise. You ended up being a sick pervert."_

He hastens to wipe his face with the back of his hand, sniffling against the rain. Yes, he knew that. Knew that all along. His tormentor is finally caught on to his secret. Confirmed at this moment when he's given the other option but rejects it. 

He is unexpectedly grabbed again, and this time, forced to look up into those eyes again. They are so close, he can see his reflection in those orbs, feel their locked gaze as the faint smell of cigarettes tickle his nostrils, mingling with the damp air around them.

 _"There’s no way for you to escape now!"_  

Even if the rain were to drowning out those words, he can still see the words etched through lips, invisible to anyone else who might hear them. Within the fiery depths of those eyes, he sees a different hell decided for him. One that he feels, will be one that will be his sentence towards a path of no return. 

Misaki shivers, because he’s right. This time, he can no longer escape him.


	2. An Unexpected Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anybody who is reading this. It still helps that you read the manga, but there are only a few chapters.

The next few minutes are all a blur for Misaki who doesn't remember much except for a few punches to his stomach which sends him to the ground. He is now being hoisted to his feet and led roughly by the arm down the sidewalk. It's an empty street, but he feels that even if there was a soul that just so happened to peek out their water-blurred window, he doubted it would do much good anyway.

Instead, an even bigger concern arises: where exactly is this guy taking him? His mouth is too dry and choked up to speak. Still, he does so anyway- or at least tries to, with barely uttered coherent language to croak whether the guy's taking him somewhere else. The guy gets the gist however, and though he can't see him as he's facing forward, leading him, he can sense the offhand drawl in his voice.

_"Ha? Don't be saying stupid things. Obviously at your house, idiot."_

There's a pocket of panic hearing these words. No- there's _no way_. It's not like he knew where he lived, right? There was no way they were going to  _his_ own place. 

He got his answer when the familiar flight of stairs reach his groggy vision and notices they are indeed, at his apartment complex.

 For a moment, it crossed his mind in a sinking feeling that his bully might have followed him to his house before, but then the realization hits him- his wallet. It wouldn't have taken a genius to find out where he lived with one glance inside it. And he had his keys with him...

They eventually make it through his room, and at this point, Misaki stops struggling. There's no point in resistance given his state, and he hears the lock click open before being shoved inside the dark quietness of the living room where the only thing loud enough, is the thumping of his own heart, so loud, he wouldn't be surprised at all if it were heard. The only thing he wonders is what the other guy has in store for him.

With the door clicking shut and the lock set, his bully turns around, and now he's almost squatting, eye-level at him with that same wicked smile he had come to both be fascinated with and dread. His green eyes look wild, with a contemplative look as if he's a predator sizing up its prey. 

"Wait-what are you-

But he doesn't finish when he's suddenly thrust backwards, hitting the wall of the living room, the throbbing on his back worsening alongside the chill from outside. After taking a few seconds to recover, he is aroused from his senses when he hears the unmistakable sound of a zipper being undone and the rustle of clothing.

His bully is taking off his pants.

His mind reels with cold trepidation when he realizes his intention. One hand tugs back the front band of the elastic briefs to reveal his half-hard member and his bully watches him with those unreadable eyes. Like both expectant and intrigued. He is looking at Misaki closely, almost as if waiting for him to react. Misaki himself doesn't move as his knees feel bolted to the floor, unable to give him the strength to get up and run. Face to face with the bully's member at eye level, he sees that its head is red and swollen, already leaking at the tip.

He is evidently aroused.

His bully finally reacts, jerking him roughly by the strands of his hair, until his head wobbles forward until inches away from the guy's exposed crotch. Besides the damp odor of cigarettes, he smells something new. A scent which seems familiar yet foreign at once.  He looks up, and the guy's face is focused entirely on him now, unblinking. Even so, his mouth looks open, like he's anticipating something.

 _Suck it._ His bully says in a low whisper.

Misaki doesn't move. There is a pounding in his ears and he feels like his brain has stopped working. His bully doesn't look pleased, so he gives him a tug on his hair until his face is pressing against it.

_I said to suck it- put it in your mouth! I bet I can fit it all in your mouth._

"L-Liar-" Misaki tries to say. 

The green-eyed delinquent's eyes flash, and right then, Misaki realizes there  _is_ no way to escape. Once again, he can't understand why he's unwilling to fight back. He can struggle, he could scream- anything- call for help...he would probably be heard by neighbors...

But he doesn't.

The guy's hands are rough around him, as they pull him forward, forcing him to take in his length. He sputters and chokes twice, trying to fit half of it, and he dreads to think how he'll manage to take the whole thing now that it's fully hard, as he can see. His jaw, already hurting from the punches, aches more as he sucks and widens to take more of him in. He can feel the guy above him shudder a bit, holding back a moan, and occasionally making snide remarks when he can through breaths. 

_See? It's possible, and you called me a liar._

Then the hand gripping him thrusts him deeper, forcing him to take more, and he nearly gags, choking on his own saliva.

 _The hell', it wasn't even in all the way. Make sure not to bite it._ He can hear the shuddering breath above him increase.

Finally, the hands loosen just enough for him to retract his mouth from the already slippery member to breath. He coughs, gasping for breath, but after a few moments, the hands guide him back in, a little more gentle this time, but only to tilt his head up so he's looking up at him. 

_Say something- oh wait, guess you can't. You love this kind of thing, don't you?_

 His bully looks flushed in the face, slightly out of breath, but he still manages to smirk down at him as he plunges into his mouth. He is looking less and less composed, and his breath comes in huffs until finally, his body jerks and he holds back a moan. Misaki can feel the twitch of his member inside his mouth- and suddenly without warning, feels a hot viscous liquid running down his throat. His jaw, already aching with the punches, ceases sucking, and a guttural noise escapes him as he wrenches his head away to the side, coughing violently, a string of saliva and fluids connecting his mouth to the now flaccid member which is now being tucked back in the underwear confines.

_Never done this before, but man, you really ARE a huge M. Already tired from all that sucking?_

He doesn't respond, instead using the opportunity to wipe his dirty face and mouth against his shirt. But he flinches as he feels the weight of his bully's hand on his crotch. His  _hard_ crotch. His breath catches in his throat and through his peripheral vision, he sees the other hand reach up. On instinct, Misaki flinches, bringing his hand to shield his face as he's done countless times before, but his bully has other ideas. The hands are now undoing his belt and pants.

_I'm not hitting you though. You've been hard since I've hit you, right?_

This guy...

His hard cock is released from its restraint, and he feels a pair of foreign hands on it, sliding up and down his length, light at first. He jerks in response to the touches. Not gentle, but not too hard. A much different touch than Misaki would have assumed from a guy who beats him up. His hand isn't cold like he'd expect from before when those same hands felt at his neck. Perhaps it is because of his own heat that has him like this now, thrusting up into the guy's fist, but the other hand that rests against his thigh, holding him in place, is cold and clammy.

_So this is why you let yourself get hit all those times? Gross..._

So what if he is abnormal? Yes, he already knows he's disgusting. A part of him looks for something like this. But at the same time, there is a greater part in him that longs for...something else. Not this kind of violence at least. He tries to bring his hand to grasp his dick, but the guy swats it.

"Then stop..."

 _If I stop, what would you do? Think about when I beat the hell out of you?_ The guy retorts back. He looks up to see those wild green eyes looking back at him, and then back at his task. Misaki can barely breath, much less answer from the feeling of the man fisting his erection and stroking it faster.

"Y-You're wrong-

The other hand- the one that's not stroking-reaches up and clamps his mouth, trying to block out his voice. 

_Stay quiet- it's fucking obvious I'm not wrong._

And with one final stroke, Misaki comes, the pressure so large, that his fluid flies right up into his already stained shirt. Aside from his loud moan, he can hear the distant sound of a chuckle before his vision goes white.

 

 

 

"I'm so so sorry!"

His apology to his bemused boss reaches the ears of all his co-workers as he presents what he hopes, a token of forgiveness in the form of wrapped chocolates. He makes up a story about his sickness, and his boss decides to accept the excuse ("Oh well, as long as you're okay"), and he resumes work.

He had taken a week off of work to recover from his injuries, likening it to "house arrest" as Suzuki calls it, for staying in, but he is quite glad that those weeks had proven beneficial. His black eye has lessened considerably, the cut in his lip having faded, and the purplish bruise on his cheek nonexistent. He has come back to work looking nothing short of a guy who might have recovered from a bad case of fever a few days ago.

The other nonexistent thing is his bully. Since that one incident, he'd seen neither head nor tail of the delinquent. Whether it was from the act of performing fellatio, giving time to heal, or something else- he doesn't knock his door or harass him. Memories of that night bring up an unpleasant sensation, one that he'd rather not remember, but thinks anyway.

He goes through work with Suzuki and Honda, occupying himself with tasks and letting their conversation distract him. At the end of his shift, he regretfully declines an offer by Suzuki inviting him to the Soba shop. Disgruntled, Suzuki huffs and storms out, a faithful and politely concerned Honda wishing him farewell until he too, disappears out the door. Left alone, he gathers his things, noticing the time on his phone reads 4:00 pm. Due to daylight savings, it's going to get dark soon.

It was then that he notices he has a one unread message, from an unknown number. Curious, he opens it

**I'm coming tonight, so make sure to be ready.**

There is no name, but he knows immediately who it's from. His mind reels back like a roll of film to last week's occurrence. He hadn't wanted it to happen, but it did. His bully knows his apartment number, his name, and the apparent fact that he can turn pain into pleasure. The events of before come back to him unwillingly.  

 

 

 

 _He is sitting on the floor , legs bent and spread as his back leans against the wall, the only form of stability for his weak body post-orgasm. After ejaculating, all he remembered was blacking out, but he vaguely remembers his bully taking his phone, fiddling around with it as though typing something before tossing it back in his lap._ _Just before leaving, his bully pauses in front of the door._

_"I'll be coming back but, next time, make sure you can do it properly... Misaki-san..." The way he utters his name at the end has a slight taunting edge to it and he tilts his head back to throw a smirk over his shoulder before exiting._

 

 

He sighs heavily, closing his phone. There was work to be done.

 

 ***

 

 

It is perhaps a good thing he decided to prepare ahead of time.

It is painful the first time he experiments with a finger. He is timid at first, only adding a pinky, but when he forces himself to relax, he is able to curl it inside slowly. He experiments more with his other digits, and by the end, he is able to add a third finger, lubing it up as best he can and hissing through pain each time he goes a little deeper, curling it inside. The experience is strangely addicting for some reason, and there's something about it that both scares and excites him. After deciding and hoping it's enough, he finally sits down cautiously on the couch and flips on a channel at random to a soap opera. He doesn't bother changing it, as he is hardly paying attention and using it to kill time. He uses it to wallow in his thoughts as realization of what he's about to do, hits him.

He's about to have sex. And not just sex for the first time, but with another guy. More specifically.. _his bully._

It struck him how all too surreal it seemed. He was going to have sex _here_ in his _own_ apartment with his own tormentor. He wondered why things had led up to this. Why had his assailant warned him to prepare when he could have just taken him right then and there last week? Why was he suddenly deciding to have sex with his victim? Perhaps he was doing it to get a kick out of it. That seems like the most viable excuse. But then, what kind of bully would go so far as to do  _that_ _?_

He runs a hand through his hair nervously, eyes lost on the television without really watching. _Well, here I am. I'm sure he'll get bored eventually...and when he does, I need to use that as my chance._

After twenty minutes, the ding-dong of the doorbell interrupts his thoughts. He's here. He turns off the television and slowly makes his way to the door. 

Sure enough, he opens the door to find his bully waiting outside, smirking expectantly.

Misaki blinks.

"What? You not even gonna say hi? Whatever, move over."

He doesn't answer.

"I'm _waiting_ , I said." comes his bully's impatient voice.

Finally, Misaki steps aside and the guy lets himself in, closing the door behind him before turning back. For a moment, nothing happens as both are left staring at each other in the small living room of his apartment and he can feel his heartbeat reverberating off his chest. His bully smirks, and his eyes catch clothed rope in his hand.

The guy wastes no time in tying his hands and Misaki struggles feebly against the more powerful guy, finally succumbing to his fate. After all, it's meaningless to resist now, given the situation. With much jerking and grunts, his bully manages to tie his hands together against the bed post making it impossible for escape. The crude knots and wrapping cause the hard cloth to bite against his wrists with every vain struggle. 

 _I knew he liked to go over the top, but why do my hands need to be tied?_ His pants are wrenched out, and he is exposed from the waist down. And hard. So is the guy. Misaki closes his eyes and he can feel the guy's watchful eyes on him, looking over his body and hears the sound of a condom being rolled on.

 _"Oh wow, you seriously prepared yourself."_ comes his awestruck remark, with a click of his tongue. _"I had planned on doing it in a place where I wouldn't have to see but...such a time saver..."_

Then suddenly the weight of his bully leaning on top of him sends him back against the floor. He would use his hands to support his weight, but they're tied back. Even so, his bully is gazing down at him. One hand spreading Misaki's leg apart while the other guiding his cock to his entrance. In missionary position, Misaki realizes.

The first thrust from the guy catches him off guard entirely. A pain unlike anything he experienced in the bathroom. The fingers he had been thrusting inside himself one at a time was nowhere near the pain and uncomfortable pressure he was feeling from his erection. The feeling of something hot and heavy inside him. Another thrust and Misaki can no longer hold his breath or cries of pain.

_"Looks like it hurts."_

Misaki feels himself shifted up, supported by arms, and he is up against the wall, legs spread apart. He sees the other's face, intently fixed on his, as if gauging his reaction. 

"W-wait, go...slowly.." he rasps out.

His bully ignores him. _"It really feels like you're pulling me from the...inside out."_ he says. There is something in his tone that reveals it is his first time doing it as well. He seems almost intrigued by the feeling.

"G-go slowly." he pleads again.

_"And if I did? Nobody told me I needed to do it gently. But, it's a good thing I've managed to stay hard."_

It's painful, and he can't seem to form a coherent thought, but the only thing he can afford to do is look up into those eyes to lock gazes with him. Even through the slight dimness of the light, he sees his assailant grimace though not in pain, but barely disguised pleasure as he leans forward a little. His eyes are as wild as ever, and as he picks up his thrusts, so does his own voice. Misaki bites his lip until it feels like he's tasting his own blood, his vision blurred through the pain of being penetrated like this. Minutes are spent 

In the end, he finally retracts his cock and rolls back the condom, panting, as he releases over his shirt. Misaki's mind is too unfocused to care about it.

His bully is still not satisfied though, and so he forces him once again until they have repeated several more times unto the night. Misaki's mind is in too much of a haze to feel anything, not even the feeling of penetration, and he feels that at some point he remembers being partly unconscious, only jerked awake with a slap of the hand or a tug on his hair before they do it once more.

 

This "neighbor" of his ended up completely beating him down. Those yellow eyes are still malevolently on him. Centered on his own eyes as if he gets off on seeing them in pain. But a little while after, with the sudden summer storms came black clouds, both the temperature and humidity ended up cooling and drying that gaze of his.

He meets him after work taking the same route home, and would run into him. Wordlessly, he would follow him, and once again, Misaki is unable to do anything. He has given up now, finding no point of resisting now that  _it_ has finally happened. They make it to his apartment and once inside, the guy immediately pounces on him, tying his hands back, preventing escape, and thus the cycle continues.

He couldn't refuse him, and now this time, he notices something. Where there was pain before, now it's been replaced with more and more pleasure. Was this truly what sex felt like? That hot heaviness inside him, thrusting into him and filling his everything?

Due to stress of work, he finds himself nodding off mid-coital, and is always jostled roughly awake by the fist in his hair. " _Hey, you-don't fall asleep!_  "

After round two, they're both panting, trying to recover, and he flinches as a hand reaches out to grasp his cheek, feeling around.

 _"It healed nicely, huh..."_ comes his remark, brushing his fingers all around his face before giving it a playful sharp tap. _"Just on the surface, though."_

It's strange how the feeling of those fingers against his face feel more like an invasion of privacy than the act of sex. This isn't the first time his bully has done something like touch his face. Usually when he does it, it's to deliver pain. But sometimes, just sometimes when he's done and grows tired of Misaki, there's a different sort of feeling altogether that makes it seem too personal.

 

 

Instead of on the outside, the pain slowly started coming from the inside. 

He wonders if there's a reason for his interest in him. Every time they would have sex, he would just watch and laugh with a crazy expression every time he violently ripped him open. Those yellow eyes, that slight pant of breath, his thin eyebrows set on him as he was capable of swallowing his entire existence...even as the guy would untie him and leave him, his face is the only thing he remembers. He thought it looked...

 _Beautiful_ Misaki thinks. Something about it at least. And before he knew it, he started hoping he wouldn't have to let him go. 

 _But was it just a meaningless desire?_  

And so this same pattern goes on for at least a week. Sometimes along the way he would walk quietly by Misaki, sometimes meet at his door when he gets home.

Around today however, as he goes up the stairs, he stops momentarily in his tracks as he sees the guy sitting outside his door. It looked as though he had been waiting for some time there. Well, he  _did_ have overtime today. But to think he had been waiting here for him... 

_"You're late."_

That same night is different. Maybe because he was late and they were pressed for time, the guy wastes no time to bind his hands but pounces on him, cornering him against the wall the moment he closes the door behind them. With one hand supporting the wall in front of him, he feels the guy's body pressed up against him from behind. One arm winds around to his front in a sort of head lock, the other wraps around his stomach.

He's never gentle. The arm holding him in a head lock grips around his neck, making it hard to breath. He's pulled closer in a headlock, backwards against him, and he doesn't dare look to the side knowing through his peripheral his bully is now peeking out amid thrusts to carefully watch his face. His breath tickles the nape of his neck then moves closer until it's tickling his ear. The proximity of the other boy behind him breathing down his neck gives a strange and exciting feeling he had never experienced. It is over before Misaki has a chance to release, and the guy slides out, making him feel bereft. Then, after a few minutes of the guy regaining his composure, they go at it again. Rarely is he given the chance for his own release.

"For you to have made it this far, you're really bad off" his bully observes. "But you're actually enjoying this quite a bit, huh?"

"Ah? Does...it look like I'm enjoying myself?" he answers back.

"Yeah it does."

Misaki can't find an argument for that. It is true while at first he was against the guy's advances, now it has become something like a routine for both of them, and he would be lying if he said there was no way some twisted part of him had grown to look forward to it. 

But it's not enough. Misaki thinks there's still something missing with it all. For a while, he had probably been aching for some attention. Aching to be noticed. It had suddenly occurred to him he knew nothing about this delinquent that is currently taking liberties with his body.

He feels a harsh tug on  his hair, making him wince. _"Why'd you stop the conversation there?"_

He looks up, seeing the angry expression on the guy's face. Conversation? Ah yes, they had been talking before. But why was he angry? Was he angry for not responding?

 _"What's with that..?"_ His confused expression must have shown on his face, because quite suddenly, his bully stops, pulling out of him in the middle to stare. "...don't tell me you're worried? Don't make that expression- not when you don't even know my name!"

Misaki doesn't move, but his eyes flicker away, gazing at somewhere off to the side. Within him, a drunken feeling of anger is awoken. Those words...there's something within him that is feeling... _sad_.

_Not when you don't even know my name..._

Those words ring around in his brain wounding him. He doesn't know why, but it makes him feel unwanted. Not special.

This sparks something rebellious in him. "So what?..." He retorts, and he is dismayed to notice his own voice seems choked, like it's holding back tears.

_"Ah?"_

"Even though you didn't plan on telling me anything from the start..."

A moment of silence. His bully looks down at him, his expression nonplussed, far different than that from a while ago. But then, those eyes cloud over with anger, and he wrenches Misaki back cruelly with his hair until his back hits the wall with a thud, now refuting with harsher thrusts. 

"From the  _start_ ! I've been telling you to stop! Can't you hear me? You're getting on my nerves!"

The bully thrusts deeper into Misaki, oblivious to his cries of pain as he towers over him, one hand holding his fist back against the wall, while the other on the back of his knee spreading them wider. He doesn't even realize there are tears mixed in with his own sweat.

 

 

_How lame of me. Guess I went overboard this time._

The yellow-eyed delinquent makes his way through the hallways of the university alone, still thinking of the previous day. He really had gone too far with the stupid masochist. He doesn't even know why he was angry in the first place. Why had he gotten angry?  

_"Even though you hadn't planned on telling me anything from the start..."_

He continues walking but stops in his tracks when he hears the voices of guys in an room opposite. They are a bit hushed when speaking, with a tone that indicates they are saying something forbidden. He is about to walk off, uncaring as usual, until fragments of their conversation reach his ears. 

-"Outsider-like guy?"

-"what was his name again?"

-"The guy with the piercings under his lip?"

-"Wasn't it Kushiro?- I only know because I was with you that one time."

\- "Eh? You knew him? This is the first time I'm hearing about it."

Hooked with curiosity, he edges closer to the door. Enough so he can hear what is being said. One of the guys appears to be eager to expel what he's saying to his friends.

-"Yeah but about that, a bunch of rumors were going around about him spelling out that he's bad news. It made me think that even some women would be unsafe around him, but I had already accepted the recommendation, so I had to brush it off!"

His eyes flash with anger. They are undoubtedly talking about him. Complete strangers. Yet he doesn't move from the shadows, and they continue on.

-"Right! His face is always so stiff looking! I've never seen him actually hang out with anyone before!" 

-"Since he doesn't talk much, the atmosphere is always the worst when we have to do group work." agrees another. More murmurs of agreement follow up.

-"I heard that even in his _own house_ , the atmosphere is stale-but it would make sense with a guy like that."

He couldn't take it anymore. He comes up from the shadows and stalks his way over to the group of three guys who are still busy talking about him. They don't notice him at first, but once he gets closer, two of the guys catch his face, and like a light bulb, the color on their faces drain, and they look to the ground, now too scared to move. It takes a few moments more for the other guy to notice, and when he does, he looks exactly like his companions. 

He hadn't realized his fists were clenched so tightly it hurt, and his voice comes out menacing. "If you have something to say, look me in the eye and say it." he grounds out. There is silence around them, and the boys don't even dare look from the ground, nor do they say anything, huddling together like the sheep they are upon facing a more powerful enemy. All talk and no shit, he reasons. Still, their words about him ring as loud as day. He feels brash enough to start a fight, and if it wasn't for the mere fact that it would mean suspension, or worse- expulsion, he would have beaten them right here and then, senseless. 

Finally, one of them-the one with the glasses, manages to speak feebly. "Hey, m-my class is about to start." Murmurs of quick agreement come from the other two and they hurry away, out of sight, giving him a wide berth and not daring to make eye contact.

He is left there alone in the room, his knuckles clenched until they are white and leaving nail marks on his palms.

 

 

Already in the foulest mood, he decides to skip Humanities to hang outside the park away from campus. Its not like the professor would give a shit to find him gone. In fact, nobody in the whole damn university would give a shit to find him skipping lessons. It's not like he ever went to class anyway.

He's bored, so he decides to open his phone contemplating whether to call the only two easily callable people he knows. He doesn't call them friends because they're not that close. Kakeru-chan is a guy one year his junior with black cropped hair that is a senior in high school. He likens him an idiot, choosing to spend the majority of his time playing slot machines after school. He serves more as a distraction factor than a friend. Like someone to kill time with. Still, it is his idiocy that makes it a redeeming factor since he doesn't dwell too much on his sour behavior.

The other, Tatsu-chan, he would call the more level-headed of the group. But while Kakeru is an idiot and simpleton, Tatsu is more observant and reserved. Perhaps it was given that he was already living with a girlfriend and child.

He really wasn't in the mood to hang with Kakeru, whose eyes were fixed on nothing but the stupid games at the arcade. Tatsu was out of the question since he'd be working during this time. The last time he had tried calling him during work, he had been yelled at through the phone.

It was just as those guys said. He really was a complete nobody, a delinquent whose friends were limited to an idiot and a workaholic. The reality was that there was nobody who would ever talk to him, or give him the time of day.

 _Damn it._ He felt the need to talk with somebody. Anybody. Anything to take his mind off from his already shitty day.

Wait...

He scrolls through his contacts to find a name in bright black font.

_Misaki-san..._

He ponders.

 

 

In the middle of his break, Misaki receives a phone call from an unknown number. "H-hello?" he asks cautiously.

 A quiet voice on the other end responds. "Misaki-san."

"Eh?"

_Was that-?_

"Did you figure out who it is?" comes his bully's reply.

 _Seriously, what are the chances that he'd call me?_ he wonders. This was the first time his assailant had called him. "Of course I know who it is," he responds.

"Are you at work?" the voice asks.

"Yeah, I am..." Misaki responds slowly.

"Oh, okay, I'm hanging up then." comes the guy's huffed response.

"Wait!" 

He doesn't know why his voice seems strained enough to keep him from hanging up. He doesn't even know his name, so he can't call out to him. "Wait, don't you have something to tell me?"

A moment of silence from the delinquent in the other end. _"Not really."_ he responds.

" _Not really?_ 'The heck." he says indignantly. He pauses, still deciding what to say. There's something off about this whole procedure. The guy seems...different.  _Why_ exactly he'd decided to call him, he doesn't know. He can't believe that after all that sex, they still have this kind of estranged relationship. He takes a careful breath.

"You know...it's a bit of a bother. Just tell me your name already." 

There is a pause at the other end, and for a moment he thinks the guy will hang up. But then, a voice so soft answers it takes him aback.

"Shiro."

"What?" He asks confused.

"Kushiro Harumasa."

Oh.

His name.

A muttered phrase of " _ugh, embarrassing!"_ and then the line clicks.

 

 

_Kushiro..._

He knows his name now. Can finally give a name to guy with yellow eyes. There is something light feeling about knowing that.

They are in his apartment once again-on his bed, doing it doggy style.

And yet, there was something... _off_ about him-no- _Kushiro_. if he could be perfectly honest, he could swear that the phone call made him sound vulnerable-if just for a moment. _It must be my own imagination, but when he told me his name, he seemed a bit..._

The hand holding his hips shifts, and migrates to send him upwards, in a head lock. The heat of his front naked body pressing against his own naked backside.

 _Never mind! He's not acting differently at all! I might seriously die soon!_ his mind helpfully supplies. He waits with dreaded expectancy for the headlock to squeeze his neck tighter, blocking out oxygen. To choke him.

But it doesn't happen; instead, the other arm moves gently around, holding his forehead back, much different than what he's used to.

_Huh?_

The head comes closer, and once more, Misaki feels the hot breath tickling his nape.

Kushiro inches forward until he's breathing right in his ear. _"You come too."_  

And then he takes his lobe between his teeth, gently rolling it.

It is this that sends Misaki's cock twitching. Not only that, but he's breathing heavily now, taken aback by this unexpected turn of events. He can barely grasp the whispers of Kushiro in his ear, but there's something erotic with the way he says it in that hushed tone as he bites his lobe while stroking him. His cock is throbbing so much, and he feels so close to coming, that it doesn't even seem possible to hold back anymore as he chokes out a moan. All he can feel is that inexplicable warmth of the other thrusting against him, body coupled with the hand rubbing his length and whispering words of encouragement.

 _"Come."_ whispers Kushiro's silky voice in his ear. 

Misaki does. A low cry escaping him as he shoots his seed several feet ahead into the biggest hottest load he had ever given. There is a lot, and even while panting against the strong chest behind, the hand still stroking him to completion does not let up. Nor does the arm around his neck. But finally, at last when both catch their breaths and the arms release him, Misaki falls forward weak at the knees to slump unto the pillows, energy spent. He is too tired to lift his head, too tired to even lift his eyelids, so all he does is focus on his breathing; the musky smell that reaches his nostrils, rendering his brain handicapped.

Then he feels Kushiro's hand on his shoulder, pulling him upwards.

"W-wait" he chokes out, trying to protest. Because of his weak brain and past experiences, he thinks the guy is asking for another immediate round two. "M-my...body still-"

And then, Kushiro does something completely unexpected. Something so far-fetched, so baffling, that it wakes him up almost immediately.

He kisses him.

His mind is wiped blank. Blank by the inexplicable feeling of another person's lips on his own and a hand curled around his neck to bring him close. His first kiss. At the same during that half second, the sun peeking behind the boiling grey clouds in the sky chooses to illuminate the pair of them there, creating an illusion of two lovers close together in the privacy of their room, on their bed, post-coitus. 

And then the spell is gone. Both the light and Kushiro, as each pulls away. The shade in the room returns as quickly as it had left, but even through the dark light, all he can do, is stare, point blank, at the other face inches from his own. Kushiro is looking at him now, and even he looks baffled. Baffled at his own actions that he had suddenly, out of the blue, kissed the very guy he harassed. There is an unreadable expression as his eyes roam around his face, settling finally on his chapped lips. His eyes flicker upwards, and Misaki feels heat gather at his face as he stares back, his tongue too heavy to say anything.

Kushiro's the first who acts, retracting his hand from around him and turning to pick up his clothes. But it's on the guise of hiding his face as he rubs the back of his neck nervously. He is putting his clothes on; a weird, anticlimactic conclusion to the events moments before. When he finally speaks, his voice feels different, a bit high pitched, like that of a confused person stumbling through their words.

"It's a bit tough, huh?"

Misaki doesn't respond, still in the same position.

"Let's stop, I'll go crazy worrying about your body's condition."

Misaki still doesn't speak. 

Kushiro continues on, and it's like he's rambling, half to himself- half to him as he slips his jacket back on. "Since it's like this now, there's no point...I don't know if I can do it. I can't hit you...I feel like an idiot."

 But as he slowly makes his way out the doorway, he pauses without turning around. 

"I won't be coming back."

And just like that, he leaves. Leaves him among a tangle of sheets and body sweat to stare at the door he'd just left, trying to comprehend what just happened.

It could have been due to nerves, but amid the silence he feels the unmistakable engine of his heart thumping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some italicized phrases are from Kushiro, while others are thoughts from Misaki's own head. I'm sorry if anybody is getting confused.


	3. Starting New

"Huh, Misaki, you're taking that way today?"

Suzuki is putting on his biker helmet outside work and accompanied by Honda this time. After a long grueling day working their shifts, it only seemed natural to believe they were going out somewhere to eat.

"Yeah, I need to stop by somewhere on the way" he answers, before Suzuki could find the incentive to ask him to join them. Truth be told, he isn't lying with that excuse. He  _does_  need to go to the market to pick up a few things before going home, but at the same time, he isn't in the mood for friendly banter. He doesn't consider Suzuki and Honda very close friends. Although they  _do_ get along well when they're working their shifts, they don't really interact much outside work except for the rare instance of eating out. It's not like he hates being around them, but for as long as he remembers, he's always managed to put distance between him and others as precaution, worried he might get too close to people. 

But that isn't the real reason for his decline in joining them. For some time, the weather had gradually improved from cold and wet storms to hot, humid spells, and he's feeling especially intrepid today in wanting to go out and do... _something_. 

When he walks to the well-conditioned food mart, he relishes the cool blast of air that greets him at the entrance. He allows himself to traipse down the aisles, looking at the various foods and items even though he has no use to buy them. Ultimately, he finds the carton of milk, lettuce, and butter he needs, then exits to walk elsewhere.

On impulse, he decides to trek into a packed music store, browsing all the different collections with gusto and enjoying the pleasant hum of people. Wearing a mask always guaranteed suspicion from others, but now he isn't even given a second glance. The purple bruises on his cheeks have faded, and his black eye is completely healed, so he doesn't feel the need to cover his face or avert his eyes anymore. Instead, there is a spring in his step as he boards the bus.

_It's calm._

He closes his eyes and lays back, enjoying the bask of warmth from the side window.

Without realizing it, he feels himself crack a ghost of a smile and only then realized it had been the first time in a while he felt the comfort of the sun.

 

 

 

 

 

***

It was just as he'd said. For a month now, he hasn't seen head nor tail of Kushiro. 

Though he is mostly relieved, there is another part of him that feels something else entirely. He doesn't know what the feeling is as he could never say he misses Kushiro exactly. But walking home without expecting some imperious message or sight of bleached blond hair feels strange.

Upon arriving at his flat, he turns on the radio to hear the weather forecast, but there is some kind of radio talk instead. He leaves it on anyway, hoping for its end and something more exciting as he proceeds to empty the contents of his bags.

He is not even listening to the voices on the radio, so he's only startled from his task when he catches what the conversation  _actually_  is about.

  _"...what do you think?_

_"There are cases where it depends on the type of  domestic violence. Despite the fact that it can cause serious damage to the body..."_

He freezes. It is the word 'violence' that makes his mind unwillingly bring up memories of  _him._  

_"...this perversion becomes an instinct that they can't deny, and the truth is, they can't abandon their violent ways..."_

It continues some more, but Misaki turns it off, now his stomach coiling unpleasantly. How uncanny, that the very day he was feeling especially happy and devoid of troubles was the very same day he had to be reminded of  _that._

The memory of Kushiro should have been gone like a summer water drop destined to evaporate, yet all he sees is his face as he remembers the last time they were together that day; reddened face turned, eyes distant, looking like someone else entirely.

But never had he imagined him to get up and leave him just like that.

 _He explained it perfectly, didn't he? He's already come to his senses, which is a good thing_ he thinks, referring to Kushiro's last words.  _Do I have to continue remembering what happened every now and then like this? I mean, it isn't a joke, and it still hurts a little. Though I did nothing to stop it..._

He can see the face in his mind's eye. Yellow eyes gleaming wickedly under the umbrella shielding the torrent of rain as he grabs him and prepares to hit him. He remembers the outstretched hand, reaching out to grab his shirt like he's done countless times before. " _What, are you feeling sad?"_

But this time, it isn't those angry eyes and bared wicked smile he sees. He can remember the feeling of one hand not rough, but gentle around the curve of his neck as he pulls his face closer. So close until his vision is blurred. He had been braced for a fist, a harsh tug of his hair, or even more nasty words, but the soft pair of lips against his own had been met instead. Instead of hands gripping his sides painfully, they wound around his neck, gentle fingers tangling in the curls of his hair, damp with perspiration. Had felt the other boy's mingle against his own, and for that split second their lips had met, he'd been accompanied with warmth. 

He almost shudders.

_Thinking back, I wonder if all I had were bad feelings._

_It's insane,_ is all he can think as the scene replays like a roll of film. He is standing in the small kitchen and all 

Skipping lunch entirely, he takes a shower instead before going to work.

 

 

 

 

One hot summer day finds Kushiro with his two "friends" in a family restaurant. Having been invited by Kakeru (who turned up late), he really doesn't feel in the need for conversation. He doesn't say much anyway, the majority of the talk is usually done by his two friends. Feeling silent, he orders a bowl of udon on impulse, but just can't seem to find it in him to eat, when he is  _this_ close to letting off steam.

"Haru, why are you being so silent? Did something so bad happen to make you feel like not eating?" asks Kakeru. " _Man,_  you are so-" 

That did it. As he's busy throttling Kakeru who is torn between laughing and protesting for his release, Tatsu chuckles from across  him, unalarmed at his outburst.

"Well, I've been wondering that too. You seem to be in a bad mood since like, several weeks ago. What happened?" he asks.

This makes him grimace and he pulls away from Kakeru who is rubbing his neck. "I'm not." he retorts shortly. He rests his head in one palm, rubbing at his temple and already feeling a headache brewing.

"You get dumped?" blurts Kakeru next to him.

He could kill him for that statement. On reflex, a jesting Kakeru shields himself that split moment, a grin on his stupid face. He could easily reach over to give him another throttle, but opts against it. Ironically, it is the idiot's assumption which came somewhat close to the truth, and he'd be damned if he told anyone, including the two companions beside him, that the real reason for his distemper had to do with a certain dark-haired masochist.

He and Misaki never had an established relationship to begin with, but he couldn't say they were strangers either. Their constant interaction as the bully and victim was all they ever were since the first punch was thrown. It had been a month and some since he'd last stepped foot in the guy's flat or interacted with him. Had it all meant to have been a quick thing? Something to forget entirely?

He wondered how he was doing. Would he look any different, same? He thought back to the landmark of bruises he'd left scattered across his face like a painting. He couldn't decipher the reason for aiming at his face every damn time. Was it because it was the easiest thing to attack? The most painful? 

Or had it been merely because he'd wanted it to be apparent...something that would make him remember?

 _Remember what?_ he scoffed internally.

Shortly after, he silently follows Kakeru and Tatsu as they're talking about an oil filter they had all promised to get at the nearest convenience store. He isn't the slightest bit interested in what they're saying, now in an even more foul mood. Excusing himself from the annoying banter, he cruises past aisles smelling the damp plastic and all-purpose cleaner.

Somewhere further down the aisle, he catches fragments of conversation that seems to belong to a quite excitable person.

"...so about the goukon with the girls from the women's college...there's still a spot left open."

Wait....

-"Eh, why me? Have you asked Honda?"

He freezes, one leg still in the air.

There was the voice of another person.

He listens more of the fragments of conversation, something about a dating group, but he could care less. All he can think about is the fact that the owner of one of the voices sounds shockingly familiar because he just  _knows_  who it is...

And that's when his suspicions are confirmed. He sees  _him_.

The Misaki guy. 

And not just that. He's  _smiling_. 

A face devoid of anger, horror, or tears. He is so surprised at this new development that he forgets even his own annoyance a minute ago. Misaki is on his knees stocking cans of aerosol on the shelf alongside his fellow associate, evidence that they work here. Neither of them see him but he hears their conversation being put to an end, and he realizes all too late that he has no place to hide.

It is too late to turn around and pretend he wasn't listening as the friend continues past the aisle and out of sight. With no friend blocking his vision, Misaki continues kneeling while working, but presently his eyes wander upwards to where he is rooted, a few feet away.

It is almost humorous to watch a face go from comically cheerful to downright shocked in less than a millisecond as they catch sight of him. As he expects, the once smiling face is replaced like a deer in the headlights. He doesn't know if his eyes look scared or disturbed like Misaki's or they look intimidating. He's just...surprised.

He hears Tatsu calling his name down a few aisles, and for once, he feels relieved at their interference. Wordlessly, he turns around towards his friend's voices, his feet feeling unusually stiff.

Kakeru and Tatsu are pissed and surprised when he tells them he wants to leave the store. There is an uneasy feeling in his gut that makes him suddenly want to exit the store no matter what. With of without oil filter. Without even excusing himself, he brushes past Kakeru who's indignant and Tatsu who is looking at him with mild concern. Neither of them would know what had just went on a moment ago and he prefers to keep it that way. Instead, he exits settling to take a drag from his cigarette, while leaning against another building out of sight.

 It would be an understatement for him to say he was surprised to see the Misaki guy after so long. But the thing that made him stunned was the fact that he had seen him so different than a month ago. Where he had seen bruises, remained healthy skin, where there were tears, now it was bright, devoid of any. And where there was a grimace of pain...well, now there was a grin of happiness replacing it.

Almost like he'd never encountered him months ago.

Like he'd never known pain.

And it stuck with him for the entire day. That damn smile. It was all he could see in his mind's eye.

 

 

 

_What a pain. I don't feel like eating meat anymore._

Dipping his spoon into the pot of meat casserole, Misaki finds no resolve to fill his plate, even when it is his favorite dish or he hasn't had supper yet. He can hardly eat after knowing that  _he_ ended up coming to his place at work and at such short notice.

_But that really scared me. I didn't think we'd run into each other like that at the store._

He'd nearly had a heart attack the moment he saw that same bleached hair and sharp slanted eyebrows angled over piercing yellow eyes. Had it been a mistake? Coincidence? He tried recalling the look his bully gave when he'd found him, eager to remember every little detail despite how off-putting it was. Well, it couldn't get any worse could it? He knew where he walked home, where he lived, and now even his workplace.

But something he hadn't seen before crossed those yellow eyes. It was clear that his presence bothered him; made those eyes light up in some shock. Almost like he was scared for a moment of seeing him and was distraught at being caught. This was absurd. Never had it even crossed his mind that he'd see those eyes look anything but worried because of him.

_It's almost like he has a deep hatred for people in general. Almost like..._

He almost dropped the ladle.

_No, of course not!_

He shook his head, feeling horrified at the idea. The _possibility_ that he was feeling empathy. Like he was someone to be understood. He might have accepted his masochistic nature, but there was no way he'd be able to fraternize with his bully. It's not like they were the same sides of a coin or something. He slapped a hand to his face, wiping away his fringe and running it through his hair nervously. Great, now he  _really_ wasn't in the mood to eat.

He was so on edge, head wrapped in thoughts, that the melodic ding dong from his door could have had the same effect as a gunshot as he jerked awake.

"Ah, I'm coming," he called out from the kitchen. He was unsure if the person on the other end could hear him, but that was okay. He was expecting a package anyway, though he hadn't counted on it being this soon.  _The book I ordered is here already? That was fast._

He opened the door. "Ye-

He can't understand why it never crossed his mind the package couldn't have arrived at his doorstep in such short notice or the idea it would arrive this late. He can't even begin to understand why he'd even thought of opening the door at this hour anyway without checking the mirror. He must have been distracted with his thoughts because the moment he sees who it is he swears he forgets to breath for a moment. An icy chill settles over his entire body at the familiar sight of bleach locks and twin piercings.

"Misaki-san."

He slams the door closed without thinking.

Or...at least tries to.

The guy's umbrella catches the door crack most unfortunately, and given by the sound, manages to bend it beyond repair. Still, Kushiro pushes inside anyway, his face showing some annoyance as well as worry at his action."Are you crazy? Don't suddenly shut the door like that!"

The guy briefly examines the loss of his umbrella, but all Misaki hears is the thumping in his own heart which seems to be magnified higher than usual. He doesn't know what to do. He couldn't be here, not  _now_ of all times. He was just thinking about him not one minute ago and barely recovered.

Before he knows it, he's babbling away. He hardly knows what he's saying because he can feel himself trembling. "What? Why are you here? Even though you said you wouldn't be back..." he can feel his voice quavering even when he's still trying to sound normal. "If...if you've come to hit me again, this time I'll call the police!"

He half-expects the guy to just walk off, raise his fist for a punch, even to shove him against the wall or something to make him go quiet. After all, what other reason would the guy show up and force himself through his living room other than beat him up or have sex?

Instead he simply...stands there. Stands there observing him, and it makes him feel even more uncomfortable. Those yellow eyes remind him like a predator who's considering his prey before him.

"You're pretty scared, huh?" Kushiro remarks.

_No shit, of course I am!_

But the guy says this more as a comment out loud than a question to him. He takes a step forward and Misaki resists the urge to take one back. After regaining a bit of his courage back, he takes the time to study his past tormentor.

Kushiro looks different. His eyes are devoid of the fire he'd seen during their fights and they are instead calculating. His hand reaches out to scratch behind his neck, and the gesture makes it seem like he's nervous about something. Nervous? That was laughable. Yet the guy did look worried, like he wasn't sure he wanted to be here. 

Kushiro speaks again, taking another step forward. This time, Misaki can't help but take one back. The guy's eyes narrow, though not in annoyance or malice, but determination. "Look, I didn't come here so I could beat you up or bug you."

These words alone are what make him draw complete blanks. What other reason could he want to come here?

"I'm just...I'm just a little hungry is all."

For a moment, he stares blankly at Kushiro. _Hungry?_

It doesn't even cross his mind to ask more questions. Like why is he here after a month has passed. Why come visit him late at night. It crosses his mind that he could refuse the guy and send him out with a threat to the police, but it's the way the guy's standing, looking at him solemnly, with a little uncertainty as he scratches the back of his neck that makes him reconsider. And of course, he wonders what is bringing him here  _now_ , of all places. Was he here to trick him? He felt some of the fear of earlier creep back. It makes no sense how he would show up out of the blue, but it wasn't like he understood him, anyway. 

He considers a third time again to send him out or call for help. 

 _What more could he do to me?_  thinks the other part of his brain. The guy had done the worse to him already. 

"I...I just made dinner." he answers flatly. 

For now, as Kushiro follows his lead to the kitchen where he still has dinner laid out, he was going to let it slide in hopes he'd find some answers. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think.


End file.
